


Gravitating towards you

by Saphirott



Series: Little Things [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, M/M, One Shot, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphirott/pseuds/Saphirott
Summary: One shotDean doesn't know how long he'll be able to keep fighting that force, the one that's constantly driving him towards it. It's getting harder every day, and it's not like Sam is making it easy for him either.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Little Things [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/948897
Kudos: 20





	Gravitating towards you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Wincest themed short story contest. The topic was about the art I share below

**Gravitating towards you**   
**By: Saphirott**

It's not new.

It's not a surprise and it's certainly long since he stopped making excuses for everything he feels inside. At thirty it is very poor to say that it is a question of hormones or a few too many drinks.

That doesn't mean that alcohol doesn't help, even if it's more to try to drown it.

The empty glass is thrown across the surface of the table, leaving a trail of moisture. He kicks his boots reluctantly and allows himself to look at him one more time.

Fucking bastard. Sam is as innocent as a programmed missile.

“I'm done,” Sam had said when they arrived. “I just want to sleep.”

He had taken off his T-shirt, thrown it into a corner without looking, and taken off his slippers without unbuckling them. Then he literally collapsed on the mattress like a puppet whose strings had been cut, hugging the pillow and with almost half his body hanging out. Apparently he was asleep ten minutes later.

Dean let his eyes wander over him.

Through his hair, which was always as messy as it was soft, through the huge expanse of skin on his back, his solid muscles, the old scars that blend in with the new ones, marks he felt as guilty about as the one who put them there. Eternal legs and narrow hips.

Dean feels it again. That force, that kind of magnetic pulse, or gravity, or whatever the hell they want to call it. He's sure that Sam would find the perfect nomenclature, but not him. It's just that it's been around since they were little, keeping them together despite all the attempts to have another life out of it, leading them hopelessly to be next to each other. Always.

And it's getting stronger.

And it's getting harder not to go one step further.

Dean gets up from his chair and walks until he stands next to him, standing between the two beds, the space that still delimits the safe zone, and he looks at it from there, with the fascination and the fear of the one who looks at a bull from the barrier.

A single step. His skin is burning and his hands are shaking.

And he feels fear.

Fear of what he might do at that point. Not to Sam, to the others. Dean feels it inside him, he'd burn the world for Sam and his pulse wouldn't tremble doing it.

He lies down still dressed and turns out the light, letting the darkness envelop them.

“Why don't you do it?” Listen, not ten minutes later.

“Because I can't,” says Dean, quietly.

“But you want to.”

Silence gives Sam reason.

“What if I want it, too?”

“Sammy... I can't.”

“What if I'm the one who does it one day? The one who breaks this damn space that neither of us wants.”

There's bitterness in his voice, and they both know he's bluffing, that Sam can't do it, that it must be Dean. That the only thing Sam can do is keep trying.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, go to sleep, Sammy.”

The end.


End file.
